It's where quarterbacks are made. Where they really have an opportunity to shine." — Mark Brunell, former NFL quarterback, on the two-minute drive

Seattle Seahawks quarterback Russell Wilson jogged onto the field in Atlanta last November with a minute and three seconds of work left before halftime and a primer from his offensive coordinator just downloaded through his face mask.

Broken down for the quarterback was a raw challenge — 25 yards to reach field-goal range; 60 yards to the end zone; three timeouts available to spread over 63 seconds.

What followed then was something like controlled mania. Hand signals. Pushing. Cajoling. Whatever it took. Crisp passes were sent toward the sidelines, where receivers could shrewdly step out of bounds and freeze the clock. Huddles were mostly dispensed with as nothing more than a time-wasting nuisance.

Tonight, Super Bowl XLVIII brings a clash between the Broncos’ record-breaking offense, led by Peyton Manning, and the Seattle Seahawks, with the NFL’s best defense. Something has to give.

If it turns out to be the too-close-to-call game the experts — and even computers — are predicting, a championship may hinge on the old-fashioned two-minute drill — perfected by Fran Tarkenton and Joe Montana in generations past — and carried forth by Tom Brady and Manning himself.

All the tension would be funneled into the final moments, played out before a packed MetLife Stadium and the entire country.

Under this scenario, everything that has come before, including Wilson’s hurry-up in Atlanta on Nov. 10, would prove to be mere rehearsal. Tonight, everyone from the coaches to the quarterbacks to the officiating crew may be pressed to execute perfectly in the game’s — and season’s — most crucial seconds.

Oddly, because they can shed their regular playbook, these moments may be the most liberating (though keep a caring place in your heart for those jittery kickers who get one shot at glory or ignominy).

"We kind of just lose ourselves in the game, in the moment," said Seahawks receiver Doug Baldwin. "We get caught up in the task at hand and don’t worry about the outcome. We’re just playing free."

The two-minute drill transforms football into a fevered scramble. Players are in constant motion, huffing into formation, pausing just long enough to have a quick look across the line.

The participants will be engaging in a well-choreographed routine. The teams began honing their two-minute offense the first day of training camp, and refined it through a season of practice, trying to perfect the program in anticipation of just this rarefied moment.

The coaches may be the conductors, but during a two-minute drill, they largely pass the baton to the quarterback. It will be left to Wilson and Manning to compute the game’s various data points — down, distance, time on the clock, timeouts remaining — with immediate precision. One play ends. Another takes off.

"It’s where quarterbacks are made," said Mark Brunell, "where they really have an opportunity to shine."

Over Brunell’s 17 seasons as an NFL quarterback, he operated with a set of 10 plays in two-minute situations that were the comfort food of the playbook, relatively simple, and, executed just right, a safety net.

The Super Bowl will feature two of the more poised passers in the NFL — Wilson and Manning. Wilson has a clutch of plays he can call quickly on his own, though offensive coordinator Darrell Bevell said he is almost always the guiding force.

For Manning, the transition to a hurry-up offense is not as drastic. Greg Knapp, Manning’s quarterbacks coach, said the Broncos can run a play every 20 seconds out of their base offense if they choose. They speed up just slightly in the two-minute drill, and because the team is so attuned to high-tempo, nearly the entire playbook is available in crunch time.

Then, before one play has ended, coordinator Adam Gase is reciting the next one in Manning’s headset. The Broncos linemen and receivers are conditioned to keep up.

"The knowledge we can apply in that situation goes a lot further than most teams," Knapp said.

Of course, even the best quarterbacks must, at times, cede control in a game’s final moments. After launching a team down the field, the game clock or defense might force a retreat to the sideline. The outcome is out of their hands now.

Off the heated bench pops the placekicker, shedding his jacket and trotting onto the field for his solo. He has been warming up on the sideline while the offense commanded the spotlight.

"Just go through your normal routine," said Broncos kicker Matt Prater, "and try and kick it like you have been doing all year."

In the November game in Atlanta, Wilson, a passer schooled in crunch-time tactics, eased his team down the field. He led the Seahawks to a touchdown with only six seconds left on the clock.

Unseen was a tiny speaker planted in his helmet beaming in the play calls from his coach, Bevell, operating instructions for a quick-strike offense.